I was about 15 years old, turning 16. It was the summer my parents and family had moved to Champaign, IL. My parents and I had decided I'd stay the summer in Utah and work with my grandpa on the dairy and rejoin my family in August in Illinois when school was about to start and soccer workouts began. It was to be a summer to remember, probably the best summer I had as a kid.
I say that largely because of the close gang of ruffians that became my brothers for those few unforgettable months. It was me, my cousin CJ Bateman, Chet Wall, Johnny Ortiz, and pretty large doses of a guy named Justin Horne. As a bit of background, CJ was the thirdborn of Doug and Shar Bateman, and a young man of innate talent and character that has always been inspiring to me, even to this day. He wasn't afraid to raise a little you know what every once in a while, but like me, he knew there was a line out there not to be crossed. It was one that is well past the one our parents would have drawn for us, but also well short of that sort of trouble that may not be able to be undone. I don't know how that line is created in the minds of some teens and not others, but CJ and I somehow knew it, felt it, and were pretty good at adhering to it. If I'm honest, my own line was probably a bit past CJ's, but I think together we adhered to that unspoken, undefined boundary as well as you could expect of any resourceful teens without a ton of supervision and probably more than our fair share of self-confidence.
Chet was the son of Joan and Jim Wall, the closest folks - in geography and in feeling, to the Bateman crew that we had outside of family. Chet was a wily character, younger brother of my first "love" and first kiss. Whenever my folks left town and I was to stay somewhere, I always chose the Walls - double value; got to be with my good pal Chet, and got to bask in those teen flirtations that make an early teen feel alive and infinite. Chet knew right from wrong, and was a good moral barometer for the group - I think more than once Chet found that aforementioned line to be a bit beyond his comfort and opted out. That's a testament to the character of ol' Chet. He was true, he was family, and a key piece of the puzzle that made up this group of pals.
Johnny Ortiz was one of CJ and Chet's friends that became a friend of mine simply because he was a friend of theirs. Johnny was quick with a smile, smooth as silk with the ladies, and always a joy to be around because he was light hearted and generally up for whatever. As I remember, Johnny was a pretty good ball player and really was a brother to me. He was not a Mormon kid and unlike Chet and CJ, in retrospect I am sure there was a whole other world he moved in of which none of us were a part, but when he was with us he was all in, and we wanted him around as much as we could get him.
Justin was in and out with us that summer. Justin was the younger brother of the the wife of CJ's oldest brother Brandon. Justin was the product of some family challenges that I'm sure none of us could have understood at the time. His parents were separated and it seemed like we never really knew where home was for him. But he was so happy and a jokester - his smile was contagious and he had a lot of love and kindness woven into that complex fabric of his character. But I also unconsciously sensed that there was a depth in him that was different, and as I think about it, I presume that came from his experience with the kinds of unsettled feelings that come from that kind of less-grounded life, and frankly there was likely some trauma in there that the rest of us couldn't have contextualized had we known about it. We didn't talk about that stuff much - not because we avoided it but probably just because at that age it didn't matter - not that we didn't care but it was just a time of life where it was all about enjoying each other, projecting our prospects with the ladies, pushing limits just enough, and really just extracting as much as one could out of a life that was wide open with opportunity. I don't think life has been particularly kind to Justin. I have attempted to contact him but the interactions have been such that I don't know if we are anywhere near understanding one another anymore. That makes me sad.
To give you a little more of the backdrop - or what our lives were like at this time, I'll share a few things. First of all, I was the oldest among us at 15, and obviously without a drivers license, though nobody seemed to recognize that - particularly yours truly. I had begun driving with my Grandpa when I was 13 on tractors, and by the time I was 14, he was making me drive on public roads when we went out to clean the canal grates - I honestly just think he didn't like driving that much; maybe because he didn't have a knee on his right leg. Either way, the lack of a license in no way inhibited our mobility. There was always an old truck or something on the farm that we figgered nobody would miss. We were mid teens - I was 15, the others 14, and our parents trusted us probably a bit more than they should have. Maybe they realized that together we'd probably - as a collective - stay within some reasonable bounds; though had they known all that went on I think the restrictions would have tightened measurably and quickly. I was working close to full time on the farm, but somehow, maybe because of the erratic schedule of dairy work, I found tons of time for our extra-curricular antics. Grandpa and grandma didn't question me much, Grandpa's focus was for me to get my work done, and to do it well - which I did; I learned that from my Dad and mom, Gramps, and often my somewhat scary uncle Steve.
I don't know how Chet got away so much, but I suppose a 14 year old kid can't be expected to sit around the house all summer. Too old to to not get bored at home, but too young to have a job. I think his parents pretty much turned him loose so long as they knew where he was and made his way home when he was expected to be there - which he pretty much did.
CJ's parents weren't super hands-on with him, not to mention he had two older brothers who kept their hands full pretty much all the time. CJ was - and could be - trusted to do his thing and keep himself out of trouble generally, which he did. So he kind of moved around at will so long as he got his own work done.
Johnny, I don't know, probably a lot like Chet. The Batemans were long time respected members of the community, known for their hard work and having scraped together, from a pretty bad situation, the makings of what became a remarkably successful dairy. Further, Gramps was regularly in leadership positions in our church, which was a pretty dominant part of the fabric of our community there in West Jordan, Utah. I think that reputation made most parents pretty comfortable letting their kids hang with the Bateman clan. Johnny was a good kid and I think was making pretty good choices himself - from what I could see he was pretty solid. I think he could be trusted, and clearly his parents did trust him.
Justin was there when he was and we took him when we could get him. Shared custody between his parents made that unpredictable, but when he was around he seemed to have complete reign of time and space as far as we could tell. Generally when we were with Justin, his dad was away at work, unknowingly leaving a snazzy old blue ford pickup at our disposal. If he had any idea how often that restored rig almost made it way back to its unrestored condition he'd have killed every one of us. Luckily providence did not see fit to give us our due on that front, and disaster was narrowly evaded more than once.
So there it is, that's the foundation and the backdrop for several memories I'll document in forthcoming entries. It was a summer of summers for me, For a teen there is very little one can hope for than a group of true pals whose friendship felt sincere, committed, ready for anything. I look back on those rascals and feel a deep love for them and what we meant to each other once upon a time. In some important ways they are still in me and hopefully I in them - and in that way I love them deeply still. As I write of them I feel that brotherhood beating deep inside me, and I presume it will be there forever I'm sure . . . and despite it being 30 years ago, it doesn't feel so distant. Perhaps that's because in some ways I hope I still have some of those 'admirable" qualities of the adventuresome, rough and tumble, wily, edgy but honorable men we were all trying to grow into.
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